


Farandole

by transhinata



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Marching Band, Eventual Relationships, M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-15
Updated: 2018-04-21
Packaged: 2018-09-17 15:17:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9331097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/transhinata/pseuds/transhinata
Summary: Marching band. An art form and a sport familiar to many. It's underrated, often unappreciated by countless student and teachers alike. But to these kids, it's their everything.





	1. I. Senior Night

Senior Night. A night of sweat, an indefinite amount of hothands, and tears. This senior night was atypical, however. The one’s who were crying weren’t the seniors.

“It…” _huff_ , “wasn’t…” _huff_ , “supposed to…” _huff_ , “be like this…” The sharp, staccato breaths that Yuuri takes between each word only serves to further the growing hoarseness in his voice.

“I know, I know…” Phichit lightly combs his fingers through his best friend’s hair, glancing up at the door to make sure he locked it. They have forty minutes until it’s time to arc and, while he doesn’t think any of the woodwinds will want to get their instruments yet, he’s still praying that no one will try.

“Just… god…” Yuuri takes in a long breath through his nose. Lifting his head up from Phichit’s chest, raising his quivering hand up below his eyes, wiping away his salty tears before returning to his previous position, “I didn’t think it could be worse than when we were in eighth grade--god, that year was fucking awful. But ten people, _ten people_ , quitting? What did we do to deserve this? I just… I love this _so fucking much_ , but no one else seems to give a shit and I--”

_Knock, knock, knock._

“...It’s Viktor,” Phichit walks to the door, carefully rearranging Yuuri’s limbs as he stands up from the ground. Yuuri runs his fingers through his hair before using his fingertips as his personal windshield wipers. He’s starting to feel lucky that he invested in waterproof makeup; his face is only slightly marred by his emotional volatility.

“I… I’m sorry to interrupt,” Viktor starts, scratching at the back of his neck.

“I… no, it’s fine,” Yuuri sniffles, standing up to meet Viktor.

“It’s just...Well... We all know that this season sucked. It was most definitely a low point as a band, and I just.. I know you two genuinely care, and have a passion for this, and… well, I think we can all agree that this batch of seniors is awful--How we ended up with a drum major that hates marching band, I’ll never know. I mean, seriously, that guy is the reason that we didn’t even fucking compete this year… Okay, that’s not the point. The point is, while this mess of a season is still fresh in our minds, what can we do for next year? _Anything,_ we just… we have to fix this.

Phichit and Yuuri exchange a glance; This is the most Viktor has ever spoken to them outside of their quick leadership meetings.

“I just… I just really need your help.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The start of my marching band AU, loosely based off of real experiences. Next chapter features the gang getting pizza.


	2. II. Bulleted List

"Okay, but what if we hazed them?"

“What?! No? We can’t just haze the freshmen, Yurio… We want them to come back, not quit.”

“You’re no fucking fun, Ji. I have the hazing piccolo _ready_ ,” Yuri took a bite out of his pizza. Pizza is a food that this band is all-too familiar with after that fated senior night. They decided, as some form of team building, that at least monthly they would meet up at the local pizza place that’s just a mile down from their (more-or-less) middle of nowhere school.

“Do I even want to know what a hazing piccolo is?” Yuuri asks.

“It’s the world’s shittiest piccolo, obviously. It’s so fucking flat--I swear it was tuned to A equals negative three, and someone fucking _carved shit_ into it, which is simultaneously kind of cool, and kind of fucked up.”

“Okay, I’m with Yurio on this one,” Chris starts, “hazing the first-year marchers sounds kind of fun.”

“As much as I like a good hazing,” Viktor’s mind races back to his freshman year, and that feeling of being blessed for getting to sit with the band at the pep rally, as he got to avoid being pelted with batteries, “but band camp is _next week_.”

“I’ve been saying this for years,” Phichit says, his face glued to his phone, as usual, “and my offer still stands: Band lock-in.”

“Hah. The day Felts agrees to let us have a lock-in is the day I come out as cis.”

“Alright, fine Yurio. We can have it at someone’s house. This band just needs to be more of an _ensemble_ ,” Phichit explains.

“I don’t want to see any of your ugly faces more than I have to,” Yuri states.

“And we love you too,” Phichit smiles, extending his selfie stick, “Alright, everyone get in!” Phichit snaps a few selfies, making sure to send them in their leadership group chat, “Viktor, send that last one to Felts-y, would ya? We're adorable.” 

“It’s a wonder Felts hasn’t blocked your number yet, Viktor,” Yuri rolls his eyes.

“I’m hurt, _Yurachka_ , Felts _loves me_ ,” Viktor laughs, “Anyways, what should I caption it? This is really important.”

“Make sure to include that we actually want to _fucking compete!_ ” Yuri exclaims.

“I’m not the type for ultimatums,” Yuuri starts, “but tell him that if we don’t have at least five, 100 percent of the guard will quit.”

“... _You’re_ 100 percent of the guard, Yuuri,” Phichit says. 

“Fuck you, Phichit.”

“Aww, babe,” Phichit winks.

“Okay, y’all,” Viktor interrupts, “this caption: very important.”

“Have you considered sending a bulleted list?” Guang-Hong suggests. Viktor raises an eyebrow.

“A bulleted list?” Guang-Hong nods.

“A bulleted list.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A pre-season taste of their dynamic. First day of band camp is up next.


	3. III. Can we even afford that?

“Plisetsky,” Yakov commanded, gesturing towards his office. Yuri walks over, assessing who’s here. The only people with the common sense to to show up this early are the section leaders (Well, Leo isn’t officially a section leader, but it’s hard to argue with someone who’s the sole member of the sousaphone section). Phichit is already standing next to Yakov’s computer. 

“I was thinking a flute/picc feature for the second song, but I wanted to see if the fingering was doable, or if we should transpose it to a different key,” Yakov tells the two. He presses play on Finale, as Yuri and Phichit finger through the notes as best they can as the notes fly by. Yakov stops the record at the the key change into the major section. “So,” Yakov starts, “Is it doable?”

“Felts,” Yuri side eyes his band director, “I’m highly offended that you would even ask this question.”

“Fine, fine,” Yakov sighs, “I’m just not looking forwards to having to coax the saxes through A Major.”

“Hah,” Yuri laughs, “Good luck with that.”

\--- 

“Alright band,” Yakov begins, “Now, each one of you represents a pound I’ve gained since December. I’m just kidding… mostly. Anyways, I’m going to introduce you to a few people. To my right, we have Viktor, your Senior Drum Major, and to my left,” Yakov points, “We have your Junior Drum Major, Phichit. I’ll let them take it from here.” Phichit gives a questioning glance over to Viktor, and Viktor nods in response.

“Okay!” Phichit claps his hands together, smiling, “As Feltsy here said, I’m Phichit! Your junior drum major! I play flute and piccolo--mostly flute! I’m looking forwards to this season with you all! Enough about me, Viktor?”

“Guess it’s my turn! I’m Viktor, I play horn/mello, and I’m your senior drum major! I hope we can make this season the best one yet! Alright, now to intro your captains. Yuri, raise your hand,” Yuri begrudgingly complies, “This is your woodwind captain--good luck, woodwinds. And, next, we have Chris.” Chris turns to wave around the room, “He’s the brass captain! Okay next we have our percussion folk: Seung-gil for drumline,” Viktor points, “and Guang Hong in pit! Lastly, we have beautiful Yuuri,” Yuuri tilts his head towards the ground a little, sighing as he raises his hand slightly, as an indicator of his presence, “He’s the guard captain! I know, two Yuuri’s can get pretty confusing. Sometimes we'll just call picc Yuri ‘Yurio.’”

“I’d _prefer_ if you’d just call me Plisetsky, if you have to call me anything,” Yuri interjects.

“Like I said,” Viktor smiles, “just call picc Yuri ‘Yurio.’”

“Y’know… I really hate you.”

\--- 

“So it looks like there might actually be a guard this year? Viktor laughs, sitting at the base of the stairs right outside of the band room. The combined band/orchestra room, and choir room, lie in this five step deep dip in the hallway, a dip that the band kids have dubbed “the music trench.” At lunchtime, during band camp, so as to not sully the precious band room carpet, the entire twenty-seven foot expanse of “the music trench” is covered by band kids, and their misandry food items.

“Well, after my _hours_ of recruiting,” Yuuri starts, opening his lunchbox, “I think I finally found a group of kids that won’t actually quit after their first days.” Yuuri pulls out a container of rice and curry before returning to the band room to gain the ultimate usage of the microwave.

“Yuuri’s ‘recruiting methods’ consisted of advertising at both the beginning and end of LGBTQ+ Club meetings,” Phichit explains.

“Speaking of Yuuri,” Yakov takes a bite of his sandwich, “Viktor, I was thinking you and Yuuri could do a dance duet before and after your solo in the closer.”

“I would absolutely _love that!!!_ ”

“OMG!” Phichit exclaims, “That would be so cool, especially since we’re doing themed drum major uniforms this year! Hold on, I’ve gotta tweet this.”

“Can we even afford that?” Yuri inquires. Phichit puts down his phone, and crawls to the other side of the music trench, bringing his index finger to Yuri’s lips.

“Sssshhhh… Don’t ruin this, bitch.”

“Yurio,” Viktor starts, “sometimes I wonder why you even came to this school, seeing how much you complain about it.”

“... the mascot is a tiger…” Yuri admits.

“I wish I was surprised…” Leo sighs. Suddenly, the door clicks open, Yuuri and his now warmed food in tow. Guang-Hong jumps a little, scooting aside to make room for their guard captain.

“So, what did I miss?” Yuuri sits down next to Phichit.

“Yuuri! Yuuri! Guess what?” Viktor coos, “We’re gonna do a duet?”

“What,” Yuuri furrows his brow, “are we marching oboe now?”

“No, no, don’t be silly,” Viktor dismisses, “We’re going to have a _dance duet_.”

“Haha, you’re funny. There’s no way I could pull that off.”

“Nooooo, Yuuri… We gotta~” Viktor pouts.

“Ugh, fine. I don’t think I actually have a say in this anyways.”

“Yaaaay! This is definitely going to be the best season ever!” Viktor’s statement is simple; it’s a statement he makes every year, but this is the first time he’s actually, truly believes it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My older brother suggested "Yuri on Grass" and "Yuri on Astroturf" as titles for this. Anyways, actual marching content will be coming up next, so that'll be a thing.


	4. IV. Broken yet Working

The glistening sweat on the back of Yuuri’s neck begins to bubble, the salty liquid mixing with the streaky white of sunscreen. The thick, padded gloves now glued to Yuuri’s hands are the only things keeping the slick flagpole from slipping onto the ground. Yuuri blinks into the last count of a drop spin, hearing a loud _clank_ from behind him as he hit attention. Normally, dropping a flag would result in some light-hearted reprimanding, but quite frankly it's a miracle that the heat hasn't melted the metal completely. Yuuri thinks he hears a call for a break, although he can't be quite sure what’s being said through the thick humidity. Yuuri sets his flag down, as he sees Viktor climb step-by-step off of the podium. A few kids have brought their collapsible gazebos to help combat the boiling climate, and Yuuri sits down underneath one that's partially embedded into a bush.

“This weather is fucking balls,” Yuri states, taking a long sip from his water jug.

“Honestly, this is the worst weather I’ve ever experienced for band camp,” Yuuri sighs, “And I think I heard Feltsman say this morning that in his twelve years of working here he's always had overcast weather for marching season.”

“Maybe it's karma for… well… _last season_ …” Guang Hong suggests.

“I don't care what it is,” Viktor says, outstretching his legs as he lays down on the ground, pressing the back of his left hand onto his forehead, “but I’m _dying_ , I’m going to _melt_. I don’t think I’m gonna make it! Phichit!” Viktor waves his right hand in Phichit’s general direction, “Phichit, you're going to have to take my place. I believe in you, you can do this, son. Y'all’ll have to go on without me.”

“Thank God. I don't think I could stand another second with you.”

“Yurio,” Viktor feigns a gasp, placing a hand to his chest, dramatically, “I’m shocked; I’m _hurt_. This is it, this is what kills me!” Viktor splatters his limbs against the ground, closing his eyes.

“Yurio!” Yuuri calls, “you just killed Viktor!”

“Good riddance!”

“Now, now,” Chris lectures, “Let’s all be friends here.” Yuri just grumbles in response. The debacle of Viktor’s untimely death doesn't go further as the band is suddenly being called by Yakov to the podium.

“I’ve decided that it would be best if we spent the rest of the day inside,” Yakov tells the band.

\---

“Your articulation sucks, but what’s new,” Yuri states, attempting to cool himself by fanning the top of his shirt, trying to blow his baby hair out from off of his face.

“Yurio,” Viktor says, peeking from behind the door, “You can’t just say that.”

“Like hell I can’t,” Yuri responds.

“Fine, fine,” Viktor waves his hand, opening the door out of the woodwind room, “I’m gonna go check on pit…Have fun, y'all.” The door clicks, and Yuri moves to lock it.

“Okay saxophones,” Yuri sighs, “I want you to try it again, and if you don’t forte-piano your whole notes in this passage, you _will_ be on the ground doing ten push-ups, and I _will not_ hesitate to turn the floor fan off, got it?”

“Got it…” the saxes dejectedly reply. 

“Good. Our first performance is at the end of the week, and I don’t care that it’s a million fucking degrees out, we can’t afford to fuck it all up now.” Yuri claps off the saxophones, clapping louder as they become more off beat. He nods into their forte piano, cuing them to change their dynamics. One saxophone squeaks into the entry, dropping out entirely halfway through the note. 

“Crescendo out of that note saxes! We’re not leaving until this part is perfect!” Yuri commands. The first part changes into a sixteenth note run, the second part sustaining a dissonant chord to help change tonality. After four beats, the saxophones resolve into their triad, albeit unsuccessfully as one of them hangs over, missing the cut off. 

“This is going to be a long day…” Yuri sighs. 

_\---_

Every so often, the cadence of a band member’s fervent footsteps can be heard running between the cramped heat of the band room, and the ice cold vending machines situated in the front of the building. Although the heat and high sugar contents shouldn’t mix, the band members are feeling particularly blessed for the Gatorade, and Powerade machines. Guard is nearby in the auditorium, currently working on a dance sequence--”working on” being code for Phichit went to check up on them, and now they’re watching cringey weeaboo videos on YouTube with the guard instructor (and Yuuri’s dance instructor of twelve years), Minako. This is probably the fiftieth time Phichit has seen some of these videos (thirty of which probably include showing them to Yuuri), but these videos are the only thing keeping their morale up in the sweltering conditions of their old school building. 

Pit is no better; Viktor walks back into the band room and it seems that Guang Hong has collapsed down on the floor, underneath the back table, and Leo, having already abandoned his sousaphone, is laying face-down next to him. A few feet down, Chris himself has ditched his shirt, finding refuge in the brass storage room--a currently unpopular location due to the loud hum of the air conditioning unit (and its annoying reminder that the school harbors the county’s most dysfunctional HVAC system). 

Viktor looks at his watch, noting that there’s still about two hours left, even though that morning Yakov had announced that he would let everyone leave early if the heat persists (plus the school’s AC turns off at four). Viktor decides that the best use of his talents at this exact moment is to try to take a photo to put on his snap story (and later post to Instagram). He pulls his phone out from his pocket, opening up the snapchat app, as Yuri bursts out of the woodwind room running to rummage through his drawstring bag, pulling out what looks like a bottle of Advil. Viktor moves to stand behind the small piccolo player, laughing as Yuri tries to quell a growing migraine. 

“So, what happened here,?” Viktor smirks. 

Yuri grumbles in response, “One of them kept saying that they couldn’t play because their sax is broken, but when I tell them to take it to Felts they said it was working. How the fuck can something be broken _and_ working?” Viktor chuckles. 

“Oh, Yura. _Just look around at all of us_.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Every so often I've been including real quotes from my real band director (last chapters "Each one of you represents a pound I've gained since December" is now my senior quote). And apparently "your articulation sucks but what's new" is something I really said when I ran a trumpet sectional, but I have no recollection of. Anyways next chapter will actually have our beloved duo working on their dance duet.
> 
> And for those interested in incessant complaining, talking about band, and real pics of The Hazing Piccolo™, my twitter is @transolaf .


	5. V. Left Legged Leap

“Okay, what about this one?” Yuuri asks, swatching a purple-to-blue shifting pressed glitter on the back of his hand.

  
“Oh, that’s perfect. Get that one,” Phichit responds, swatching the adjacent pressed glitter. Today’s a peculiar day for the two; marching band doesn’t start until the afternoon, due to some police training being held at the school. As a result, Phichit managed to drag Yuuri along to the mall to expand their makeup collections (Phichit insists that with a new show, comes a new makeup look, even though guard’s outfit this year has a similar colour scheme to the previous show’s). 

  
“By the time practice rolls around my hand’s going to be the entire rainbow,” Yuuri laughs, placing the pressed glitter into their basket of sundry cosmetic products.

  
“Good,” Phichit responds, “That way the whole band can know how gay you are. Although, they should all know by now.”

  
“Well, I’m sure not _everyone_ knows…” Yuuri is now picking up an eyeliner, pressing its tip to his arm to see if it is at his desired level of blackness.

  
“And by everyone do you mean Viktor?” 

  
“I… well…” Yuuri looks away from his best friend, nodding tentatively.

  
“You’re blind if you don’t think he likes you back, Yuuri. Seriously, I’m certain he took Gov over the summer just so he could have more electives with you.” Phichit motions for the two to move down to the next aisle–to the next brand and their palettes the two are about to abuse. 

  
“I don’t know about that…”

  
“Oh, please. Didn’t he ask to work on your dance duet at practice today? Did you know that before band camp he practically _begged_ Feltsman to let you guys have that dance duet? He was rambling on about how ‘the drum major should have an integrated part of the show, not just some glorified spectator with some sick wish to manipulate the story.’ It was literal _paragraphs_ of text in our group with Felts.” 

  
Phichit pulls out his phone, opening his messaging app. He scrolls up for what seems like forever, until he lands on the beginning of a lengthy block of text. He waves his phone in front of Yuuri, “I have the receipts if you’re interested,” he smirks, “It was fucking wild; I think at some point he might’ve threatened to quit?”

  
“There is no way you’re being serious,” Yuuri replies, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. Phichit just waves his phone in front of Yuuri’s face, beckoning for the boy to just take the damn thing. Yuuri sighs as he begrudgingly complies to his friend’s request. He reads about every other line, only skimming through the interactions between the his drum majors and their beloved band director (he’ll ask for screenshots later). 

  
“So…?” 

  
“This could mean anything,” Yuuri hands the phone back to Phichit.

  
“Okay, now you’re just being ridiculous,” Phichit says, placing the concealer Yuuri was just fiddling with in their basket before taking back his phone.

  
“Well it’s not like he just outright says ‘I, Viktor Elizabeth Nikiforov, like Yuuri Katsuki.’ Like seriously he’s the _drum major_ , and he made fucking _All-State_ ; why the hell would he like me?”

  
“Okay first off, Elizabeth?” Yuuri just shrugs in response, “Second of all, I’m also drum major, and we’ve basically been dating since the third grade so that’s a moot point,” Yuuri scoffs in response, “And, babe, you’re gonna make state this year; Your oboe playing is fucking gorgeous! What’s not to like?” Yuuri just looks at Phichit for a few seconds.

  
“…We should really check out before we buy the entire store…” Yuuri pushes out of the aisle, taking the basket out of Phichit’s hand.

  
“Now you’re avoid the topic,” Phichit side-eyes Yuuri, “I’ll let it slide this time, but only because I want to hit up that rotating sushi place before we leave.”

  
“Not avoiding the topic if there’s no topic to avoid,” Yuuri makes his way to the checkout line, “Anyways, we should hit up that boba place–Kung Fu Tea? I don’t think it’s gonna be as hot as yesterday, but, well, it’s boba.”

  
“You’re killing me, Katsuki. You’re lucky I love you.” 

  
Yuuri gibes his sarcastic response, “ _Aww, babe_.”

  
—

  
Afternoon practices are always interesting, during the summer. Everyone’s more awake than during the normal after school rehearsal, thanks to not having to deal with the taxing seven hour school days. More people take the time to put on their makeup, suggesting that the time at which the rehearsal occurs gives them the opportunity to actually do something _before_ they have to get to marching band. 

  
The quintessential black music department chairs are already neatly, and symmetrically set up in an arc before anyone gets to the carpeted classroom. The band is only going to work for about an hour and a half on the music for the latter half of the show. Friday’s performance, a rare pre-first day of school home game, will feature just the former half of their show (the turnout for the game is probably only going to be half of its norm, and the fact that they’re ready to perform this early in the season is a miracle). Instrumental members of the band, percussion and winds alike, are situated in their respective spots, their bags and belongings in disarray at the edges of the room. 

  
Guard is working in the high-ceiling length of the gym hallway, waving their captain goodbye as he walks off with their silver-haired drum major. Said drum major moves in closer to the guard captain, loosely wrapping his right arm around the younger boys neck.

  
“Isn’t this exciting? We’re finally working on the closer!” Viktor smiles. 

  
Yuuri hesitates, “Um… yeah!” He chuckles nervously as Viktor feigns a frown.

  
“Yu-uri,” Viktor draws out the second syllable, “Why aren’t you more excited? You love dancing!” 

  
“I just don’t think I can pull this off,” Yuuri admits. 

  
“Pffft?” Viktor opens up the door to the auditorium (choosing this room so as not to cause undue social anxiety unto his guard counterpart as they work together), “The Yuuri Katsuki? Not pulling off a dance? Preposterous!”

  
“You’re just saying that…”

  
“Yuuri, I’m hurt that you would suggest that I’m _lying_ about your ability to dance,” Viktor sits in one of the auditorium seats, bending backwards a little as he raises the back of his hand to his forehead, “You’ve wounded me.” 

  
“Why are you like this…?”

  
“Aww, you know you love me,” Viktor winks. Yuuri looks back at Viktor, but doesn’t respond, he just climbs onto the stage, placing his water bottle at the top of the stairs. Viktor let’s out an exaggerated sigh as he follows Yuuri up onto the elevated platform.

  
“Y’know I used to dance, right?” Viktor offers as the two sit on the floor to start their stretches, “I only quit rather recently I was always having some spat or other with my studio. I think it was for the best, because I think band is more my thing.”

  
“I think I’ve heard something like that, yeah,” Yuuri reaches his hands down past his right leg, letting his head rest on his calf.

  
“Yeah, it’s pretty great that I can still dance for something that I actually care about, though.” The two sit there in an amicable silence as they continue through their stretches. As Yuuri finishes stretching, he starts to load up a video on his phone. 

  
“Okay, I know I sent this to you, but we should probably watch it together,” Yuuri says, pressing play on the video. Viktor scoots in next Yuuri, his left arm pressed against Yuuri’s side. The two just watch and nod along at the 16 count set recorded by Minako and Yuuri.

  
“And on count fourteen, that’s when you pick up and start to hand me my mello, right?”

  
“Yeah,” Yuuri nods, “So… I guess we should try it.” Viktor stands up first, offering his hand to Yuuri. Yuuri pauses before accepting the other man’s offer. Viktor helps pull Yuuri up, resting his hand on his junior’s back once he reaches a stand. 

  
“So our last set of the third song looks like it’s off of the A 45, and the end of these sixteen counts splits the B 45 and 40,” Viktor reads off of his drill sheet. Viktor sets his water bottle down at his spot, then marches off 20 steps in the all too familiar cadence of an 8-to-5 block. He sets down the dot sheet from which he was reading as a reference point. He knows that this part doesn’t have to be wholly accurate; He is _just_ setting a piece of paper down to represent the arbitrary point from which they should be equidistant. But of course, Viktor, the perfectionist that he is, wants everything to be as precise as possible.

  
Viktor moves back over to his first makeshift yard marker, waving his hand over for Yuuri to follow. Viktor has left hand at attention (he’ll be holding his mello later), his right arm outstretched to follow the tondue the parallel leg. To his left, Yuuri mirrors the pose, standing only a few steps behind his horn playing counterpart. The two face inwards towards what would be the 50, and Viktor turns slightly to see Yuuri better.

  
“We should take this slow, yeah?” Viktor asks, “How ‘bout just the first eight counts?” Yuuri nods. “Do you want to count off, or shall I?”

  
“Oh, um, you can do it I guess.”

  
“Alrighty! Set!” Viktor laughs, “One and two and. One and, two and, ready and, go and,” The duo count and subdivide in time with their steps, Viktor first turning clockwise as he chasées back around towards the halfway point between the markers. Yuuri’s path is more linear, a left legged leap on beat seven leading him into their rejoined set. It is on best right when they come together.

  
The last count of this half-set has Yuuri now on Viktor’s right, his right hand on Yuuri’s shoulder. Yuuri’s left leg is pointed past Viktor’s body, and the two are en face with each other. The space between the two is less than a step, and although the two are angled out towards their imaginary audience, they can feel one another’s steady, methodical breathing on each other’s faces. Viktor looks down at Yuuri’s visage, eyes fixated on the younger man. Viktor slowly starts to smile, letting out an airy voice-less chuckle.

  
“That was… that was wow,” Viktor admits.

  
“Yeah,” Yuuri agrees.

  
“We should, definitely do that again. That was? just wow.”

  
“I agree,” Yuuri tells Viktor, “I’d love to continue dancing with you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Been taking forever on this because it was he end of the semester plus it was baby's last all district whoops. Next chapter will be their first football game which should be exciting.
> 
> My twitter is @transolaf if you're interested.


	6. Anachrusis

The popcorning sound of loose gravel hitting the bottom of the car serenades Yuuri and Phichit as they park at the grass strip behind the football stadium. The two walk out of the unofficial marching band parking lot, making their way down the covered ramp standing at the door, waiting, as it seems that they are overzealously early for their first football game of the season. Phichit sits up on the handrail, taking a sip out of the frappuccino he got from Safeway before the two made their way to the school. 

“Yuuri, you excited for the game?” 

“I mean, I guess?” Yuuri sighs, “There’s just this one set I’m really worried about? The toss is super weird for me to catch sometimes. I’m just afraid I’ll fuck it up and like ruin the whole show and--”

“Shh,” Phichit interrupts, “you’re perfect; it's gonna be great. Besides, if anyone ruins the show it'll be the trumpets.” 

“I guess you're right,” Yuuri nods. The two wait until another car pulls in, the next being Feltsman himself, letting the two enter the solace of the mildly air-conditioned band room. The two get themselves prepared for today’s event,Yuuri putting on his (tentative) guard costume, with Phichit getting situated into his bibbers. It’s not long before Chris walks in, Viktor in tow. The four help set things up, amicably chatting as they wait for the remainder of the ensemble to show up. 

Soon the band room is filled to the brim with its proper tenants, the melange of each individual’s warm-up the cacophonous start to the group’s evening. The pre-game rehearsal works like clockwork--from scales to marking time--even the first years seem to have a grasp on the inner workings of game night. Each member is soon uniformed, trains of adolescents zipping each other up. 

The band makes its way behind the football field, the rolling of their drum cadence commencing the glide of their march. The band is far from perfectly in step, a member or two confused on whether or not the clicking of the tenor drums means left or right. The precision of their steps is somewhat low, but morale is high. The group has yet to be marred by arguments peppered throughout rehearsals, fervent bouts of yelling in lieu of actual basics blocks. With any luck, the band will never be like that again, not if the current set of leaders have anything to say about it.

The band makes their stop on the track, unceremoniously shuffling about to perfect the symmetry of their arc. Phichit walks up into the stands preparing himself to conduct the national anthem, affectionately nicknamed “The Banner,” amongst the band. The wait seems to drag on, an endless stream of announcements coming from the commentator, each member of the starting lineup serenaded with chants and cheers as they run onto the field from behind a fog machine. At some point, Phichit thinks he hears the band being announced. He raises his hands in response to this, pointing in the general directions of drums to start a roll off. He cues the start of the song, or at least he thinks he does. Phichit hearts the bright sound of the piccolo take the appropriate pick up, accompanied by the sweet voice of the mellophone. The rest of the band takes the pickup a beat after, the dissonant round lasting until the second strain of the piece.

“It’s going to be a long night,” Phichit laughs.

\---

“Yuuri!” Yuri yells over the loud bustle of crowds, “Where the hell is that water I asked for?”

“I’m sorry! I’ll get you next!” Yuuri’s hand shakes at it stands idle holding an empty cup under the band’s large water jug. He passes the water quickly into the general direction of the band, hoping those closest to him got the memo to pass it down to his Russian namesake.

“Um… Yuuri…” One of the underclassmen guard members starts, “You know we can, like, help you with the water right?”

“No, no,” Yuuri shakes his head, “It’s my job. I was born to hydrate this band.

“Okay if you’re sure.” 

“Mhm,” Yuuri absentmindedly responds, crushing up a cup that was passed to him to throw away.

“Time to arc up on the track everyone!” Feltsman commands. The band begins to stand up, adjusting their hats, and making sure their dinkles are tied. The group begins to snake out of the stands, their overall balance questionable at best as they all try to squeeze through the aisle. A passing trombone player goes to give his barely consumed water to the timid guard captain, but he spills it over Yuuri’s torso instead.

“Well shit,” Yuuri sighs, “this is fine…” Yuuri shakes his blouse, trying to get any stray liquid not already sunk into the chemise’s fibres off into the air. Yuuri goes in behind the last band member to make it to the side of the field, sitting on the asphalt of the track to lead the guard in some light stretches. The band runs through roughly the first four measures of the two pieces they're playing for today, the pit lining their instruments up by the home sideline to assist they're quick set up. The group cycles through their pre-game rituals, laughing through the quirks of them all, noting the confused glances from the yet completely inducted first year members.

Soon, the familiar buzzing signaling the start of halftime sounds, cuing the actual marching members of the band to line up against the side of the field. The band could not be bothered try to actually march on the field into the opening set, instead choosing to run into the form for a few moments solace from the late August humidity. The snare taps the band off, hoping for the band to atone for the atrocities they committed to the U.S. National Anthem. 

The opener of their show starts off pretty okay. The baritones are a little out of tune, and no one is fully convinced that the mellophones are actually playing. It's not perfect--far from it really. But it's as perfect as the band is gonna get for a first performance. With each transition between sets, the band never loses morale. Even when a toss doesn't get caught, and a poor, unsuspecting freshman trips over the grounded flag, the band does not cease in its air of attentiveness to their craft. 

All too soon, their performance for the night comes to an end. Yuuri’s breathing is heavy, sweat running down into his mouth as he breaks attention. The marching members of the band no long hold their required grimaces, show smiles of guard members resolving into varying levels of resting bitch faces. Yuuri’s smile, however, doesn't fully falter. 

“Maybe this season won't suck, after all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somewhat of a filler chapter as a result of five months of procrastination, but at least she's here.
> 
> The band will get yelled at for the Banner later.


	7. VII. RSVP List

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Calm before the storm?

“So I’ve been thinking…” Phichit starts during one of their rehearsal “breaks” in sit-down band (their substitute teacher really couldn’t care less what they were doing). 

“Well that can’t be good,” Yuri retorts.

“LISTEN! If Felts won’t let us have a band lock-in, we should stage one ourselves! It can be just a lil’ shindig!” Phichit exclaims.

“Do you hear how fucking stupid you sound?” Yuri glares.

“Shhh,” Phichit grins, “You know you’re intrigued! No, but seriously! We’re gonna make it happen.”

“Oh let’s do it at my place,” Chris suggests.

“Oh, I second, third, fourth _and_ fifth that!” Viktor agrees, “Chris’ house is kind of in the woods, but that just means he has a humble house with a lot of room to take hikes! Oh, and he has a pool, too!” Viktor winks, “Just finished installing at the end of last school year!”

“You sound like you should be on HGTV,” Yuri interjects.

“Thank you!” Viktor smiles.

“No, but like this is perfect! I’ve been wanting to have people over maybe have a nice bonfire, we gotta!”

“That settles it,” Phichit says, “I gotta start planning!”

________

_Inner Circle Group Chat_

Chris: Just got the okay !! It’s a go *emoji*  
Phichit: BET okay !!!!! time to start planning !! We should prob make an RSVP list tho  
Yuuri: Love u Phichit, but why are u like this ?  
Phichit: We gotta know how to allocate food ! Ok im gonna make lists so we know who’s coming ;)  
Viktor: OOH Chris and I can pick up pizza after practice on the day  
Phichit: I’ll also make a list concerning food if people would like to pitch in :^]  
Yurio: Recent google searches - how to leave an sms group chat  
Chris: I have two cats yurio  
Yurio: …  
Phichit: OKAY so I’m RSVPing yurio then  
Yurio: full offense but fuck you  
Phichit *cat heart eyes emoji* <3  
Viktor: im so excited it’s gonna be litttt *devil emoji*  
Chris: OH yes we can channel our fav wine mom felts  
Phichit: haha this is a WHOLESOME band shindig  
Viktor: ik ik. I was just kidding  
Viktor: next time tho ;)  
Yuuri: now I know y’all are in class right now but OK.  
Yuuri: u make the rsvp list yet ?? Rsvp me i like free food  
Phichit: wig okay !!!!  
Yuuri: also i’’ll bake some cookies so add me to your food list  
Phichit: the vegan cookies? ??? ?? those ones were wig :’)  
Yuuri: sure  
Yuuri: ohh what day was this for again  
Chris: day before the first comp.. we can drive all the babies there ;)  
Chris: gotta boost morale because who knows how this one is gonna go lmao  
Phichit: eh cant be as bad as the ballad my freshman year  
Viktor: god yeah i heard someone say “are they playing or are they just tuning..”  
Yuuri: .. big mood  
Phichit: yeeeah but with the shindig we wont be as tragic !team building y’all !  
Yuuri: I’m just afraid like yurio is gonna murder someone or something.. i mean.. imma still go but is this the best idea  
Chris: nah no one’s gonna die yuuri it;ll be gr8  
Yuuri: sounds fake but okay …

Yuuri walks back to his classroom after taking a bathroom break (a break solely for using his phone, of course). He’s not wholly convinced that this shindig, or whatever Phichit wants to call it, will go without a hitch. He sighs, as he re-enters his classroom, sitting down in his seat. Yuuri figures that if the ship goes down, he might as well go down with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow hello! It’s been a brick since I updated, but here’s chapter seven (she’s really just kind of a preface for the actual shindig which will be in ch. 8)! Sorry it’s taken me a while I’m surprised I’m even uploading this since its finals and juries season!! Anyways next chapter will be the shindig some events of which totally are not based off of a band shindig we had my senior year .... 
> 
> If y’all are interested in me and my life:  
> twitter+ main ig @transolaf  
> Art + cos ig: @transloaf  
> Photog ig: @fluteaunt  
> (I know i’m doing the absolute most)!


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